


Super Kid, Super Hearing

by whumphoarder



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alien Invasion, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, I'm trying something new with the pov shifting thing, Injury, Light Angst, Major Character Injury, Medical Procedures, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Hulk (Marvel), Sassy Peter, Super hearing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Vomiting, Whump, disloacations, hopefully it works, super minor but still there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-01 05:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16278680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumphoarder/pseuds/whumphoarder
Summary: Peter takes a hit while on a mission with the Avengers and dislocates his knee. Tony suffers for it in more ways than one.





	1. Super Kid, Super Hearing

“Nice one, kid!” Tony calls over his shoulder as Peter fires an expertly-timed web at the alien’s leg and whips it back, sending the strange being tripping forward to face-plant on the field.

(Or at least Tony _thinks_ that’s the face. Admittedly, he wasn’t paying much attention to Cap’s pre-mission briefing on the flight over, so his knowledge of Ordaxian anatomy is sketchy at best.)

Even though Peter’s face is fully covered by his mask, Tony swears he can see the stupid grin spreading across the kid’s features. “Thanks, Mr. Stark!”

The call to assemble had come three hours earlier as SHIELD had sent out the alert that a group of fourteen hostile aliens had entered through a wormhole over a field in northern Pennsylvania. Normally, this kind of high level mission wouldn’t be one Tony would invite Peter along for, but the kid had been visiting the compound to work on suit upgrades when the call came and had somehow talked his way onto the Quinjet with them. He blames Rogers.

The mission has been going surprisingly well so far. The first dozen aliens were incapacitated with no real casualties to the team and relatively minor damage to the surrounding landscape. If only all invading alien races would be polite enough to touch down in Amish country wheat fields rather than major cities.

But the feeling is shattered when he hears Hawkeye’s urgent warning issue over the coms:

“Spidey! Watch your two o’clock!”

The initial hit from the Ordaxi seems like nothing compared to the sickening sounding ‘pop’ on the landing. The scream that follows is unlike anything he’s ever heard come out of Peter before.

Tony whips his head around to see the young hero crumpled on the ground, gasping in pain and clutching at his bent left leg. He blasts his repulsors at the alien at the same time that Clint fires a quick series of arrows at it, finally bringing it down before racing over to Peter.

There’s an ugly sight waiting for him. Tony stares in horror at the kid’s mangled left knee. The bones have shifted so that the femur sticks out like a shelf and the tibia is knocked inward, giving the joint a hideously _wrong_ shape that’s visible through the form-fitting suit.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter gasps. “My leg…”

Tony keeps an eye on the one remaining Ordaxi while he drops to his knees beside the kid. “It’s okay, kid. I’m right here. You’re alright,” he reassures.

Peter’s voice hitches. “It really h-hurts…” he says through clenched teeth.

It’s a testament to how much pain he’s in that he doesn’t even try to conceal it. Internally Tony is panicking, but he fights to keep his voice even. “I know, kid—we’re gonna fix it. Don’t worry.”

Over the coms, there’s the sounds of a scuffle going down. “Banner - wait - no! We got this, you stay on th- Aw, shit...” Clint mutters. Then speaking fully into the coms, he warns, “Heads up, everyone! Incoming code green!”

Racing down from the Quinjet, the Hulk roars in fury, “PUNY SQUID HURT HULK’S SPIDER FRIEND!” Wrapping a giant green fist around a cluster of tentacles, he slams the remaining Ordaxi into the ground. Hulk repeats this maneuver several times before plopping down directly on top of the alien’s now lifeless form and letting out a much more satisfied-sounding roar.

A moment later, Tony hears Steve cough before announcing over the radio, “Uh, final threat is neutralized. All clear. ”

“Well that was overkill,” Natasha’s voice deadpans.

Tony breathes out a sigh of relief and retracts his armor. But the feeling is short-lived as Peter immediately whimpers, “Feel sick.”

“Okay, hang on kid,” Tony says, urgently tugging Peter’s mask up. The second it’s off his face, Peter turns his head sideways and gags. Yellow bile spills out onto the ground. Tony grimaces.

“S’rry,” Peter chokes out. “‘M’sorry. Hurts.”

“You’re alright,” Tony reassures. Into the coms he says, “Hey guys, we’re gonna need a medevac. Spidey’s down.”

“Roger that,” Steve replies. “Clint is notifying SHIELD. Nat’s working on the code green situation but Dr. Banner should be available soon.”

“Hear that, Pete?” Tony asks. “Help’s on the way.”

Peter is staring transfixed at his mess of a knee, seeming simultaneously disgusted and fascinated by the displaced bones. “This is the grossest thing that’s ever happened to me,” he murmers. “And once in seventh grade, Ned barfed Hawaiian Punch and gummy worms right into my lap.”

Tony lets out a quick laugh. “Wait ‘til you see college parties, kid.”

It’s a little less than ten minutes before a rather disheveled-looking Bruce Banner jogs over to where Peter is laying on the field. His clothes are ruffled and traces of green are still fading from his skin.

Peter has managed to get it together for the most part now. “Hey Dr. Banner," he greets with a wince. "The Other Guy was _so awesome_ today,” he says reverently.

Bruce gives a sheepish smile. “You’ll have to tell me about it later.” He kneels down on the ground next to the injured teen. “Looks like you got a little roughed up,” he says lightly.

Peter weakly attempts a grin. “Yeah, but I totally roundhouse kicked one of them between the tentacles so I think we’re even.”

“Was _that_ where their junk was?” Tony asks with a frown. “I could’ve sworn Cap said on the powerpoint that it was behind their ears.”

“Their ears were also between the tentacles, Mr. Stark,” Peter explains with the tone of one speaking to a particularly slow toddler.

While Peter and Tony debate alien anatomy, Bruce checks the knee over carefully. “This had to have taken an incredible amount of force,” he remarks, examining the data from the scan he’s just run on his Starkpad. “The whole joint is dislocated—not just the kneecap. That’s not a very common injury.”

A sudden thought seems to hit Peter and he turns his head up to Tony, wild-eyed. “Mr. Stark! What if I can never tap dance again?” he gasps.

“You don’t tap dance now,” Tony points out.

“No, but I like knowing that I could if I wanted to.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but it’s only to play along. He knows that Peter is just trying to mask the fear and pain with poor attempts at humor—it’s exactly what Tony would be doing if the situation were reversed. He’s not about to stop the kid.

Clint approaches them. “Stark? Got a minute?” he says.

“Yeah.” Tony gives Peter a pat on the shoulder. “Hold tight, kid,” he says, pushing himself up to standing.

“You too, Doc,” Clint says, beckoning them both away from the teenager.

Bruce stands as well. “We’ll be right back,” he assures Peter.

“Don’t worry.” Peter lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Not going anywhere.”

The three men move back several yards over to where Nat and Steve are standing before Clint speaks. “I talked to Fury,” he says quietly. “There’s a situation back at the base. We’re not gonna be able to get a medevac in for at least an hour.”

Tony’s heart sinks. “Shit.”

Bruce looks worried. “He can’t wait that long,” he says. “The scans are showing that the knee is already trying to heal itself. Every minute that it’s out of place, the damage to the blood vessels and ligaments compounds.”

Tony blanches. “Can we reset it ourselves?”

Bruce nods grimly. “We’re gonna have to. But, Tony, this isn’t like popping a shoulder back—it’s gonna hurt like hell.”

“He’s a tough kid,” Steve says firmly. “He’ll be alright.”

Tony turns on him. “You can zip it, Betsy Ross,” he bites back. “Peter wouldn’t even be on this mission if it wasn’t for you giving him the go-ahead.”

Steve seems taken aback. “What are you talking about? He was perfectly capable, he just took a hit. Happens to all of us.”

“Yeah well, when you take a hit, there’s no pissed-off aunt demanding to know why I allowed a seventeen-year-old kid to fight hostile aliens,” Tony retorts. _And no explaining it to myself either_ , he adds silently.

“Guys, this isn’t helping,” Natasha cuts in. “Put your egos aside for five minutes and focus. The kid got hurt, so we’re fixing it. End of story.”

“What can we do?” Clint asks, turning to Bruce. “Do we have any pain meds that will work with his metabolism?”

Bruce shakes his head. “Not with us. We’ve been trying to develop something back at the lab for weeks now but it’s a delicate balance. Too little and there’s no effect. Too much and we risk liver damage.”

Steve sighs. “Guess we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way then.”

“Which is?” Tony demands.

“Count backwards from three. Do it on two,” Steve says simply.

**X**

“Uh, hey guys?” Peter calls from across the field. Conversation ceases as his teammates turn their heads in his direction. “You know I have super hearing, right?”

Clint snorts out a quick laugh. Natasha smirks at him. Bruce and Steve at least have the decency to look a bit sheepish. But Tony just rolls his eyes.

“How much of that did you get?” his mentor asks.

(In truth, everything.)

“Enough to know this is gonna suck balls,” Peter tries to snark. But his voice quavers and so it falls flat.

The corner of Steve’s lip twitches but he doesn’t comment on Peter’s choice of language—just casts him a pitiful smile. “Best to get it over with then, huh?” he says.

“I guess,” Peter agrees.

After a brief discussion of the logistics, Bruce and Steve position themselves near Peter’s feet. Tony sits down next to his side and rubs his arm encouragingly. Natasha and Clint stand off to the side, out of the way but ready to jump in if needed.

Peter tries to keep his breathing even.

“We’re going to have to straighten your leg out,” Bruce explains. “Hopefully that will be enough to slide the bones back into place. Given that you’re enhanced, I don’t know how much resistance there will be, so Steve is going to help, okay?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

Bruce holds Peter’s shin with one hand and gently places his other hand above the knee. Steve follows suit. “Ready?” Bruce asks.

Peter nods, lips pursed together tightly. His hand fumbles for Tony’s and he gives it a squeeze. His mentor squeezes back reassuringly.

“On the count of three,” Steve says. He glances sideways at Bruce, who nods.

Peter closes his eyes, preparing for the jolt on two. But then without any warning, Steve jumps straight to, “Three!”

In one horrible movement, the two men push Peter’s thigh down and pull back on his shin, straightening the leg out.

It’s pure agony. Peter’s vision goes white—if he hadn’t already thrown up, he’d definitely be doing it now. The cry of pain slips out before he can stop it and he grips Tony’s hand in desperation.

“Got it,” Bruce declares as the bones slide back into the socket. “It’s in.”

Peter releases his hand and gasps in lungfuls of air. He’s shaking, but an incredible feeling of relief is washing over him now. Natasha hands over a brace and Bruce and Steve quickly wrap the leg.

Tony pats him on the shoulder. “Good job, kiddo,” he says through a tight-lipped smile. “Gotta take care of something real quick—see you on the ship.” He stands up and heads off in the direction of the Quinjet.

“‘Kay,” Peter gasps out after him.

Things move pretty quickly after that. Clint’s brought a stretcher, which Peter weakly protests against using, but it’s just to keep up appearances. He’s strapped in and loaded onto the jet in a matter of minutes.

Peter’s been on a handful of Avengers missions before so he knows the drill now. The flight back will mainly consist of the team tending to their wounds and cracking jokes with each other, interspersed with calls to and from SHIELD with mission reports. Usually Peter is too hyped on adrenaline to keep still, so Tony will sit next to him and feign annoyance as the kid excitedly recounts the details of the recent battle.

But this time, after propping Peter up with ice packs, the rest of the team disperses throughout the ship and he’s left to let his mind wander.

It’s not that Peter means to eavesdrop, exactly; he’s just so damn good at it.

All he has to do is focus his senses one direction or another and he can pick up different conversations, like tuning a radio. He soon learns that Steve is on a very official (aka, boring) debriefing phone call with Hill. Clint and Natasha are chatting about Cooper’s most recent Little League game in the cockpit—his team won, though Cooper apparently needs to work on his curveball.

But it’s the third conversation, taking place out of sight back in the ship’s cargo area, that really catches Peter’s interest.

“Jeez, Tony,” he hears Bruce mutter. “This is probably going to need surgery.”

Peter’s stomach instantly drops. Surgery means anesthesia, and anesthesia with his metabolism is Very Not Fun™. He learned that the hard way about two months back when he got his wisdom teeth removed and woke up mid-procedure.

“Oh c’mon, it can’t be that bad,” Tony’s voice replies. “We’ll just brace it and ice it and it’ll be fine.”

Bruce sighs. “You know I’m not even a medical doctor…” he begins.

“Eh, close enough,” Tony interrupts.

“No, not close enough,” Bruce retorts. “This isn’t something we can fix with a bandaid or an IV or a couple stitches. If this isn’t properly treated, there could be lasting effects.”

Peter swallows hard, glancing down at his knee. Just how bad is this injury? What if he can’t be Spider-Man anymore?

“Oh please,” Tony scoffs, “we’ve all seen worse.”

Ever since Thanos, Tony has been extra protective of him, so the fact that he is now downplaying what is admittedly one of Peter’s more serious injuries comes as a surprise. Peter tries to take it as his mentor finally seeing him as one of the team—something to take pride in. But it still stings a bit to be brushed off.

“Actually…” Bruce muses. “You know who would know a lot about this?”

“You better not be talking about who I think you’re talking about,” Tony says immediately.

“But Tony-”

“Nope, not happening.”

“I’m just saying-“

“Then how about you just _don’t_ say it?”

“But you have to admit that he is kind of the ultimate authority here,” Bruce insists. “I mean, he’s had both professional _and_ personal experience.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Tony says firmly. “I am not contacting that asshole wizard doctor to tell him that a distressed teenage superhero just shattered four or five bones in my hand.”

**X**

“I DID _WHAT_?!”

Both men startle at Peter’s exclamation. Tony jerks his crushed hand back from atop the crate where Bruce has been examining it. He holds it to his chest protectively, grimacing in pain.

“Wow. That’s twice in one day,” Bruce remarks.

“Goddammit,” Tony mutters to himself. “Why is this so hard to remember?? Super kid, super hearing. Super kid, super hearing...” he chants under his breath.

Bruce chuckles at his friend. "Better add super strength while you're at it."

Tony turns to head back to the main part of the ship, mentally preparing himself to talk down a frantic and guilty teenager from the panic attack he’s sure is building.

Bruce stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Speaking as the resident expert here on losing my cool in high stress situations and accidentally hurting those around me, maybe you ought to let me talk to him,” the doctor suggests.

“Yeah,” Tony lets out a hard sigh, gazing down at his throbbing hand. “That might be good.”

As they walk back, Bruce adds, “And you should definitely consult Doctor Strange.”

Tony scoffs. “Or, better idea, I could just cut this hand off and build myself a bionic one.” He hums to himself at the thought. “Yep, that’s what I’m doing—just decided. It’ll have its own corkscrew and everything.”

Bruce gives him a sad smile. “C’mon Tony, you forgave everyone else after Titan… can’t you forgive the man who spared your life?”

Tony swallows hard, remembering being stranded and alone on an alien planet—remembering the feeling of ashes slipping through his fingers. He shakes his head minutely. “Not yet.”

Bruce nods solemnly. “We’ll get there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Part 2 now added!)


	2. Super Kid, Super Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the incident, Bruce and Tony attempt to talk down a frantic and guilt-ridden Peter during the flight back to headquarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally a one-shot, but several people asked about a part two, focusing on the aftermath, so here goes nothing!

Bruce follows Tony back into the main part of the ship to find Peter fumbling with the buckles that are strapping him to the gurney.

“Hey, whoa, absolutely not!” In a few quick strides, Tony closes the distance between himself and the injured teen. “Don’t even think about standing up on that knee.”

Peter looks up at his mentor, his face stricken with guilt. “Mr. Stark!” His gaze instantly locks on the arm that Tony is still holding braced against his chest. “Oh god, did I really crush your hand?!”

“It’s nothing—I’m fine,” Tony dismisses. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh my god, Mr. Stark I’m so, so, _so_ sorry!” Peter babbles. Tears are beginning to well up in his eyes. “I should have known better! Or I should have controlled it or something—I can usually control it! I just, it really hurt and I wasn’t thinking and I grabbed your hand and, and now—”

Tony interrupts, “Kid, look, it was an accident. It’s fine.”

“But it’s not fine!” Peter rambles on. “Doctor Banner said you might have to have _surgery_! That’s like, not fine _at all_! And you might need Doctor Strange, and–”

That comment pushes Tony over the edge. “Okay first of all,” he cuts Peter off sharply, “no one is contacting Strange, so both of you can just wipe that thought right out of your overgrown brains, got it?” he demands.

Peter looks startled but gives a nervous nod.

Bruce coughs awkwardly. “Tony...” he begins.

“Second,” the billionaire plods along, “as Bruce likes to remind us every five minutes, he isn’t actually a medical doctor, so for all we know he could just be talking out of his ass.”

“Uh, Tony, can I—” Bruce tries again.

Tony ignores him. “And third, even if that is true, this is far from the first time I’ve had surgery, kid," he scoffs. “Let me remind you that I was once trapped in a cave in Afghanistan to be operated on—with no anesthesia—and hooked up to a car battery to keep me from going into cardiac arrest, so if you think a crushed hand is going to be my worst surgical experience, think again.”

“ _Tony_!” Bruce practically shouts. He’s been watching Peter’s face turn progressively paler throughout the duration of Tony's monologue. The kid looks mere seconds from bursting into tears.

“ _What_?” Tony snaps, turning his head around.

Bruce softens when he sees the frustration on his friend's face. He knows Tony's just trying to help, but the man is obviously in pain and his consolation tactics are failing miserably. Bruce sighs. It's time for him to resume the _other_  unqualified role he so often fills for the team—Not That Kind of Doctor Either.

“I think you need to take a walk,” Bruce says carefully. “How about you go get some ice, maybe call Pepper, and meet us back here in ten minutes, okay?” He tilts his head slightly in Peter’s direction, hoping Tony catches his meaning.

Tony seems taken aback for a second, but one glance back at the kid’s trembling lower lip sets him straight. “Alright, yeah, ice—good thinking,” he mutters. He gives Peter a pained smile before heading back into the cargo area.

Once Tony is out of sight, Bruce turns his attention to Peter. The tears that have been threatening to fall for the past few minutes are silently streaming down his cheeks now. He sniffs and wipes at his eyes roughly with the back of his hand.

Bruce sighs and sits down on the closest chair. “Peter, I know you don’t believe me right now,” he says gently, “but no one is mad at you.”

Peter won’t meet his gaze. “They should be,” he mumbles, picking a piece of fuzz off of the sheet covering the gurney's thin mattress. “It was my fault.”

Bruce hesitates for a second and then shrugs. “Sure, okay, it was your fault,” he allows.

Peter glances up at that—he clearly wasn’t expecting agreement.

“You’re right,” Bruce says with a sympathetic smile. “It’s important to take ownership of our mistakes. But that doesn’t mean they’re unforgivable.”

“But I hurt someone—someone I care about,” Peter says miserably. “Ever since I got these powers, that was the one thing I’ve been terrified of doing, and I just did it.” He wipes at his eyes again and sniffs. “How can anyone just forgive that?”

Bruce chuckles a bit. “Peter, you’re talking to a guy with significant experience accidentally hurting the people he cares about. And I can assure you, I’ve done a lot worse than crush a hand.”

“But that’s different,” Peter protests. “That’s The Other Guy—he’s not really _you_ , you know? I was _me_ when I did this.”

“The Hulk is still me,” Bruce says patiently. “I might not be totally aware of what’s happening, but I’m in there.”

Peter’s cheeks flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean you weren’t in there, I just… I don’t know. It seems different somehow.”

Bruce smiles a bit. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “Tony was one of the first people I met after the accident who treated me like I was still worth something—as a person, not just as a giant green rage machine. He was the one who worked _with_ _me_ to develop ways to contain The Hulk and he gave me a place here with the team. No one had ever wanted us both before.”

Peter smiles a bit at that.

“I’m willing to bet just about anything that Tony is dreaming up some kind of new technology as we speak to keep you safe so this doesn’t ever happen again,” Bruce goes on. “Because that’s just what he does—he fixes things and he protects people.”

“What about his hand?” Peter asks nervously. “Will it be okay?”

Bruce quirks his head. “You saw the contraption he built for Colonel Rhodes. Do you really think a broken hand is going to be the end of _Tony Stark_?”

Peter smiles slightly and shakes his head.

“Of course not,” Bruce agrees. “And if you’re worried about him being upset, just take a look around this ship. Everyone of us on this team—Steve, Natasha, Clint, myself—we’ve all hurt Tony at some time or in some way. He forgave us and he can forgive you too.”

Peter looks earnestly at him. “Do you really think so?” he asks, sounding much younger than his seventeen years.

“I know so,” Bruce says firmly. He adds with a grin, “Just like I know he’s going to forgive Strange because I just texted him to meet us at SHIELD medical for a consult."

Tony’s voice hollers from the cargo area, “I heard that!”

Bruce shakes his head slowly at the now quietly giggling teen. “When we get back, I’m having a serious chat with Fury about soundproofing the Quinjet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading and giving feedback - you are so appreciated <3


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